


Arsonist for Hire

by Boobchanan



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Firefly needs a job, Post Suicide Squad, Taken from a roleplay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 17:28:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7766827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boobchanan/pseuds/Boobchanan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When no one else is hiring, Firefly decides theres one person he can go to for work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arsonist for Hire

**Author's Note:**

> Taken from a roleplay I have done with a friend. Joker is the other guy so you see the difference between his amazing writing and my shitty writing. XD  
> J if your reading this, don't be mad.

Terrible choice to go the Clowns club, but not the first of his mistakes. He just needed money, more importantly he needed work, everyone else just didn't like his sparkling attitude. Pulling the hoodie over his burned up face as he waltzed in, trying to find the Clown through all the flashing lights and people dancing like freaking monkeys. "Crap." He muttered, where the hell is he? He spun himself dizzy trying to look around for the guy, can not be this hard to find one damn clown in this place. After a bit of blindly going through the crowds and such he was able to find the VIP, that would work, but he was stopped by a pretty big guard. "Oh hey big man. Look I just need to see the Clown. Can you tell him Firefly is here?" No response. "Come on. Please?" Still nothing. "Fuck it." A punch to the groin later, Lynns walked up the stairs to the VIPs. "Wheres Joker? I need to ask him something?"

 

His answer to that question was in the response of cold steel pressed against the back of his skull. He could hear the hammer cock, readied. It meant the safety was off and one half second pull, his brains would be all over the club. The man was unpredictable, prone to emotions and flights of fancies. One moment he was a best friend, the next he was absolute chaos.

The barrel glided around the curvature of his head as he dragged his along his flesh, circling around to face the Firefly like a predator. Blanched skin was in stark constrast to the bright red lips pulled away to reveal a twisted metal smile. The gun was held steady and then...wasn't. He flipped the gun by the trigger guard back, a quick rotation and flip. He held it by the barrel, grip out towards Garfield.

"Ohhh. What have we here?"

The smile never wavered.

 

He went dead still when he heard the cock of a gun behind him. Oh shit, he did not want to die today. Especially not in a club floor with god only knows what is filled with. He was close to needing a change of underwear as the gun barrell dragged around his head, touching the ridges of the burned flesh. That gave a shiver down his spine.

"Hey Joker...look...I uh..need a job. Things have been kinda slow and well no one is hiring a guy like me. So I was wondering if I could work for you maybe?" Talk about playing with fire, well more like hellfire here.

 

"Take the gun."

It was a command. There wasn't really a question or option. He was holding it out for a reason. Now a reasonable man would take it and blow the clown's brains clean out but no, there was something that held them back. Fear mostly. If they missed, what he would do to them was unspeakable. Once Garfield's hand was on the grip, he released the barrel and moved aside.

"That man. Straight ahead. Kill 'im."

He gestured towards the man in question. The Clown Prince's were his own. Most people never understand his reasoning or motives. This was more than likely a test. To kill someone in cold blood in public, it had to be.

 

"Really?" To be handed the gun, well shooting Joker just seemed like setting off a atomic bomb on the world, plus he didn't want Harley on his ass so it was pretty clear what he should do. He gripped the handle of the gun and he took aim, felt off, unfamilar, he would have preferred using his own stuff but he cant have everything. Without a single thought he pulled the trigger, no pity or remorse and not even a shred of guilt. He left that one a long time ago.

 

"HAHHHHHH!"

That was all he heard as the man crumpled. A few people shied away from the murder, leaving their seats and going to the other sections of the VIP. He took the custom purple and gold pistol from him, holstering it back at his shoulder. He leaned inches from his face, patting the disfigured flesh with no hesitation.

"I like ya."

Leaning back and snapping his fingers, his right hand man came forward. He leaned in, whispering something. He left and Joker focused back on Lynns.

"Tell them what ya need. You pay for nothing tonight. My treat."

A treat indeed as his right hand man came back with a gaggle of buxom beauties. Ten different women. Different races, sizes, and heights. All supermodel gorgeous. All flocking to him.

Johnny informed him, "In the morning tell me what you need. Enjoy the night."

He left the man to the women and all the alcohol and drugs he wanted.

 

Ok..a switch had been flipped here, first he was worried he would get shot or whatever else he would be subjected too. Then he was treated to stuff only Royalty would get. This, he liked this. He liked this a lot.

Once he was left to all the fun he could have, oh boy did he have fun, best. night of his life that for once did not include fire. Ah, this was a night to never forget again.

Then after all the fun, he ended up waking up with a massive hangover a few happy memories. He sat up on the...couch? Cozy. He sat up and he stretched his arms out, letting out a nice yawn to start off his day. Best job ever. He was gonna have a hell of a time here.

 

A knock at his door. Three quick raps. The man who came in was the same as last night. He adjusted his tie and looked down to the man, vexed.

"Jonny Frost. We had to haul you back here. Breakfast is on the way. We need a list of supplies and things you need. You work for the Joker now, so whatever technology you need for your.....proclivity to fire, tell us. We will get it."

He took a seat in a nearby chair as they rolled the cart in filled with an assortment of food. It seemed it was a top tier hotel. The bed was plush, the room large and fitted well.

"First and most important rule: Harley Quinn is off limits. You do what she says but don't linger too much. Best to avoid. Next rule: just humor him. The man is fickle but you listen, you do, and you perform well, you live like royalty. Obviously. These are just some tips to keep you alive and keep you employed. Eat up."

 

He nodded, never been much of a homewreckef type so no problem with not pulling anything with Quinn, plus he preffered keep his gentials intact.

"Sounds just dandy." He had been a little low on money and that affected his equipment quite a bit. Damn shame really but he now he can work up a list. "I do have a few needs." He looked around before getting his notepad from his pocket, he never kept his work on the phone, call it parnoia at its finest. Handing it to Frost. "Oh and a spray can. Yellow I'd like but I'm not picky." He grinned before digging into the food. To think he was pratically eating out of trash cans to be eating stuff they shuttle to those rich punks in this town. No wonder they are always so fat.

 

Reaching into the inside pocket of his coat, he removed a Samsung Galaxy 7 and a Samsung Smart Watch. He set it on the stand beside the bed.

"This is your phone. We have the number. Our numbers are in there. I'll call you when we have your gear."

He came from the seat with the list in tow. He left a stack of hundreds on the tray, probably five thousand or more in cold, hard cash. With that he was gone.

He gave him a call later to confirm if he was at his room. Whether he was or had to meet him when he got back, they eventually met. With the help of two men, they hauled up a top of the line suit and a custom, top tier flamethrower. Several cans of yellow spray paint were tucked away, as per request.

 

"Oh ho ho ho yes! Perfect!" He clapped his hands together at the sight of the suit and gear. "Now we just add a flair to it all." With that he went to work, using the items he requested to fashion himself a aresnal of firey weapons, ah it felt so good to be working again. The feel of metal and tubes to toy with, crossing wires and finishing up with a smile.

Then came the suit itself, whipping out the spray cans he went to coloring it up, making it stand out as the Firefly he was onced feared as..maybe feared is a strong word..frighten seems more suitable. He shrugged it off and continued on, turning the suit to what he felt most comfortable with. "Perfect." He then stood up, picking up the helmet and staring down into the eye sockets of it. "This little bugs gonna rain fire on Gotham."

 

"That's what we're hoping for."

Once he was assured that the man had what he needed, the pulled out his phone and sent a quick text. Tucking it back away, he made sure he didn't need anything else.

"That all? You've been invited back to the club tonight. You're already elevated in the circle. You aren't some common thug or henchman. You're in the same circle as I am. Almost. So drinks, everything, is on the house. You know where it is. My number is in your phone. If you need anything else, text me."

He left him to his devices for the rest of the day leading into the night.


End file.
